


Desert Heat

by fortunatelykeendetective



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Captain John Watson, Flirting James Sholto, John Watson in Afghanistan, M/M, Military John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatelykeendetective/pseuds/fortunatelykeendetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little bit of Captain Watson letting loose and a little flirty Major Sholto</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desert Heat

**Author's Note:**

> No Brit-picking or betas. Errors all mine, please feel free to point them out so I can fix them. :)

It is never cold in Kandahar in July, but this year’s heat has been the most brutal of John Watson’s three years in-country. It’s the kind of oppressive heat that sets the entirety of Her Majesty’s fighting force on edge, the kind where you could strip off your clothes and then your skin, then lie about in your bones and still roast.

John humps his share of the gear plus his medic supplies through the broiling desert and doesn’t complain, even when it’s twice as hot on the ground as any day he ever saw in London. Afghanistan is some of the most inhospitable terrain on the planet and John doesn’t really want to be there, but he’s a good soldier and doesn’t complain. He’s usually one to keep to himself. Years of avoiding his father’s temper and his mother’s depression have rendered him an expert on that.

But tonight he’s ready to let loose a little. There’s been a bit of an uptick in casualties the past few weeks and John’s seen far too many bleeding and dying 19-year-olds calling for their mothers. He’s told them lies about how they’re going to be fine and _don’t worry, the other blokes are okay too_ , and this week he’s done enough of that to last a lifetime. He’s not a very political man, he doesn’t really care who the Prime Minister is, he just knows that lots of mums will be burying their boys and he thinks to himself, _the wrong people are paying the price for this goddamned war_.

So tonight he’s going to try and have some fun and forget that he’s too far from home fighting for some politician’s agenda. Saunders’ wife sent a nice care package with some sweets to share, and somebody managed to procure a few cases of good shit to drink, way better than what they usually get that reminds the farm kids of sheep piss.

John’s going to try and drink a little and forget the heat and the casualties. He steps into the fortified tent a bit sheepishly, for even though he’s Captain John Watson he usually doesn’t do this and isn’t really sure he belongs. It’s one thing to patrol together, but he’s not sure what to do when he’s not in doctor mode. The lights are low, there’s way too much smoke in the room between the cigs and the hashish everyone knows about but no one mentions. A few guys are in the corner playing poker carrying on about that Chuck Norris poster they found on patrol out in Middle-of-Nowhere, Afghanistan and the stereo is blaring that godawful Thong Song about nine years too late.

As if on cue, Williamson jumps out into the center of the room and starts a striptease for no one in particular and it catches on quickly in the room full of tipsy boys and men with too much time and not enough adrenaline. Wolf-whistles and cheers erupt from a couple other guys and before John knows it, someone’s grabbed him by the hand and yanked him out there as well.

 _Just go along_ , the voice whispers in his ear from behind. So John does, as much out of sheer surprise as anything. He will not be taking off any clothes, but he’s got a bit of the good shit in him by now so he’s not above showing off just a little. He isn’t exactly Fred Astaire but he’s got enough rhythm, he knows what to do.

The voice from behind is back, whispering _don’t look now, but the major’s got ‘is eyes on you_. What else is John going to do but have a look in that direction, and he isn’t quite prepared for the aquamarine eyes belonging to one Major James Sholto boring into what seems to be his very marrow. It’s intense but not uncomfortable, and John’s lowered inhibitions give him just enough gumption to bump and grind his way over to where Sholto’s holding court and shooting the shit with a couple other guys.

John manages to reach the other side of the bunker, feeling Sholto’s eyes on him the entire time. He can’t be entirely sure, but he’s pretty sure that’s a wink Sholto gave him as he bounced his way over.

“Major!” John yells over the din.

“Rowdy crowd tonight, Watson, what have you given these boys to drink?” Sholto yells back.

“Sir, I’m afraid these boys know how to have a good time without me,” John replies, still shouting.

This time John knows for sure it’s a wink as he feels Sholto step into his space, an inch away from his chest, and feels Sholto’s hot whiskey breath in his ear. “ _Care to test that theory, Captain, and join me in my tent_?”

**Author's Note:**

> The Chuck Norris Story is partly based on reality. A relative of mine spent a couple combat tours abroad; he and his guys really did find a poster of Chuck Norris out in the middle of nowhere and they have photographic evidence to prove it.
> 
> Constructive criticism always welcome. This is my first foray into fanfic, so please be gentle. :)


End file.
